


The Chaos Nebula

by madefrommagic



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humour, I actually had to go back and apply the suitable amount of angst for this pairing, but you know this, feel free to shoot me, i just, its complicated, tbh this amount of fluff is just wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 07:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11077359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madefrommagic/pseuds/madefrommagic
Summary: s10. The Doctor pays Missy an habitual visit, only to find things are not as expected."Maybe she was a nebula. Mesmerising, beautiful, yet casually possessing the ability to drag everything around it into its core, form a star and eventually implode, taking everything it took with it. Genius, really."





	The Chaos Nebula

It had been a long day for The Doctor by the time he finally got down into the vault that evening. Previously, he’d managed to trick Nardole into getting him a packet of Jelly Babies from a shop five blocks away.

“For the nostalgia, Nardole!” 

“Okay... but why can’t I just use the TARDIS?”

“Nostalgia. Exercise. Religion. I’m using it. You can’t. I don't want you to. Why are you still here?” _  
_

The poor man, slash robot, had obligingly made his way out of the door, oblivious to the grin that had lit up The Doctor’s face the moment his squinted, confused little eyes had been averted. Like flicking a switch. 

It was unlikely Nardole would actually catch him, especially when taking into account that he hadn’t even battered an eye on all the other numerous occasions. One of which notably included dragging a grand piano down a flight of stairs. 

Nonetheless, The Doctor still found some form of joy in sending Nardole off on pointless errands. To watch his bobble hat bobble away comically, and his nagging follow behind. Blissfully.

The Doctor hadn’t wasted any time getting to the basement either, quietly anxious to see his friend. 

On any other day, he wouldn’t admit this. Wanting the company of a psychopath was often looked upon with a brow raise at the very least. He's talking about himself here, of course.

On this particular day however, The Doctor’s nerves where fraught and battered from the whims of humans and such tremendous pressures of his own mind, that he had found himself craving an understanding company. So much, he had almost blurted it out to his entire class. 

It was bad enough he'd accidentally called a student Koschei. 

It was verging on unbearable.

The first thing he noticed when the great doors slammed behind him was something greatly disturbing, deafening, and quite fundamental in a situation such as this one. It was silence.

Frequently, and by frequently he meant every single day, Missy would take to greeting him in the most characteristic of ways. No sooner had he taken a step into he threshold, a coy Mistress would appear from seemingly no where, remark on his current attire that day, gaining a scowl from him and a grin from her, before latching herself onto his frame in what she reckoned was a hug. 

He found it endearing, after a while.

Momentarily, he had been counting on it to lift his spirits, and the absence of it not only induced disappointment but a truly horrific stab of blinding fear through his entire being. 

Maybe she’d fallen asleep. Maybe she was on the brink of hatching a diabolically evil escape plan. He really couldn’t afford to bet on the former over the latter. 

Maybe she wasn't okay.

“Missy?” The Doctor called, the sound bouncing back from the walls of the spacious vault like a strange, echoing bell. 

Not a sound in response.

He was starting to get a little worried. By this point he'd be mid Missy embrace, a face full of Missy hair. He'd be smiling. Instead he was frowning, alone, sans Mistress. It was scary how much he found himself dependant on her then. He wanted to deny it, but the sadness and worry that eclipsed him was far too overwhelming to defeat. 

Not a hum or a laugh graced the air. 

"Missy?" He called again, louder, stepping further into the vault. 

This time there was a muffled, but distinctive, sniffle. It was coming from the bedroom. Partially tripping over his own feet, The Doctor hastened to reach it. He slowed upon reaching the door, pushing it open in the gentlest of ways. 

Missy was sat on the floor in front of the TV, her legs sprawled out in front of her so that her skirt pooled over her knees and spilled onto the floor around her. Her hair seemed to sag, like the rest of her currently did. 

Light from the TV flickered across her face. It had been muted. The only sound was the fire crackling from the back of the room and Missy herself. 

She didn't look up as he entered, instead choosing to continue staring down at her hands. Her face was screwed up in a way he recognised as grief. She was crying, and the sight never failed to make his hearts pang. His presence seemed to accelerate this apparently, as her sniffles grew more incessant.

"What's wrong this time?" He asked, somewhat exasperatedly but always considerate. It wasn't the first time she'd burst into tears in his presence. Last time she had said it was because he never supported her life choices.

He'd pointed out her life choices mostly included death and destruction, to which she replied, "that's because you don't support them!" then proceeded to drape herself dramatically across an arm chair with a loud sob. Known well for his idiocy, he may have somewhat indulged in her blatant ploy for attention.

He was never good with crying women. 

Or crying Masters.

Which was exactly why The Doctor currently kept his feet pinned to the floor in the doorway, subsiding the urge rush over and take her in his arms, knowing he'd be made a fool of once again if he yielded. 

Missy didn't reply as brashly as he had been expecting. In fact she didn't reply at all. She just kept staring down, lashes like dark fanning feathers against her cheeks, tears spilling over them soundlessly.

The Doctor, half concerned, half curious as to what had captured her attention _over him_ , and had also managed to distress her to such an extent she had fallen silent, cautiously made his way to her side, boots scraping the carpet softly as he did so. 

You could say he was slightly offended to find nothing but a tangled mess of vibrant string in her hands.

You could also say he was incredibly baffled.

How had something like that induced such sorrow? He found himself dumbly speechless. Witnessing The Mistress sob over the contents of a sewing kit wasn't something he ever thought would occur, to be honest. He knew she was dramatic, mad even, but this was questionable at the very least.  

His eyes widened then. "You're not becoming a cat again, are you?" Curiously, the thought came with a sense of panic. He contemplated this quietly.

Missy titled her head upwards by a fraction, turning to look at him from the corner of idled blue eyes. Not even sadness had the power repress The Mistress' urge to address The Doctor's stupidity, hence the half eye roll he received in response. Finally she spoke,

"No, dear. Those days are far from returning." For a moment she seemed her old self, the pained expression replaced by sheer boredom. Her voice startled him after such a prolonged interlude, cutting through the stilled air with hushed coolness. 

But the note of sorrow rung the longest. 

Was that why she was crying? Did the string somehow remind her of older times?

"But that's not it." Missy said, suddenly, as if reading his mind. It wasn't impossible she hadn't, either.

"I was... I was trying to make a..." She paused, as if the notion was suddenly too heartbreaking to repeat. Her bottom lip began to tremble, she was looking at the knot tangled in her fingers again.

With a sob she finally said, "a friendship bracelet." Her words dissipated into nothing, tears filled her eyes.

He couldn't help it. She looked so genuinely upset, so distraught as she held the disaster in her little hands. He remembered the sense of dread that had plummeted through him. The caution he'd taken. 

He imagined The Master, evil renegade, lover of chaos, emulating an activity aimed at 12 year old girls.

The Doctor burst into laughter. 

Missy snapped her head up at him instantly, her face was one of pure horror, betrayal even. Her lip was stuck out fully now, and the sight only made him laugh harder. 

"Doctor!" She barked, furious, pouting. He was loosing the ability to stand. She was only fuelling it now.

The Mistress was nothing sort of livid, letting out another despaired cry. "I was making it for you!" She sat back, scowling, arms crossed, giving him an awful glare that would've sent any other running for the hills. 

He had begun to feel slightly bad for her, and although the initial impact of the revelation still hadn't quite faded, The Doctor ceased his giggling. An amused grin remained and he sat himself down beside her, bumping her shoulder. She shuffled from him, creating a suitable distance. He could practically feel the anger radiating off her.

"I'm sorry." He offered, sincerely. Missy turned her head away from him. 

He moved closer again, which she allowed. He tried to take her hand, only to have it snatched away, challenging him to repress an eye roll. She still firmly refused to look at him.

"C'mon Missy. I'm sorry, really, I shouldn't have laughed at your gift."

Missy pressed her lips together, humming softly. _I can't hear you._ He thought she might have muttered something about Cyberman, too.

"Look, it's... great... that you... tried." 

This earned him another terrifying look. At least she was making eye contact, that's a step... whether it was a step towards reconciliation or towards murder? Still a grey area.

That marginally reassuring uncertainty was rapidly edging closer to defiant death as time trickled on and The Doctor had yet to please his Mistress.

"What- what I mean is..." He reached for her hand again, keeping her eyes in his to ensure all was peaceful between them. She yielded, perhaps through curiosity, but The Doctor was simply grateful for the cooperation, and more confidentially, glad of the warmth of her hand in his. 

Opening the fist she had stubbornly made, he revealed the clump of multicoloured string once more, the said item both their gazes now fell to. Placing her hand palm up between them, The Doctor said with unwavering honesty,

"It's great- no, it's _beautiful_ , because you tried to _create_ something out of love. _You_ , Missy. I think that's amazing." 

For a moment, it was silent again, but it was a comfortable silence. There was no fear, no dread, no worry. It was the kind of silence you'd spend with someone who understands you. 

_Loves you._

Missy scoffed, her bright eyes slipping from his. "Spare me the sentiment, _please._  I'm not some little human of yours. It's chaos."

"Really, is it? I thought it was supposed to be a nebula." 

"Shut up."

"You love chaos."

"Yeah, but this is just tragic." She sighed, frowning at her creation once more. 

He chuckled. "I love it." 

She looked at him for that, eyes blown huge. "Do you mean that?" Her tiny, breathy voice made his face feel far too warm. He shifted his weight.

"Missy, to be honest, I'm just thrilled the earth survived the making of it." 

"But my dignity didn't!" She cried suddenly, making him feel as if he'd stepped on a landmine and was now being thrown through the air.

He wished he'd said something else. He doesn't know what, but he wished he didn't have to see the hope in her eyes shatter like a china vase flung by his own hand. Missy sobbed abruptly, her face crumpling under his gaze, breaking both his hearts.

The power she had over them was outstanding. 

In the most dramatic fashion she exclaimed, "oh, Doctor! You never appreciate what I do for you!" He tried to take her hand back, but she flung both of them into the air and knocked her boots together. 

"I'm The Doctor, and I love earth, it's my best friend!" Missy said gruffly. "Look at all these idiots on it, they only have a pea for a brain and these disgusting little crushes on me, but I don't care, I love them more than anything!"

She made face here, scrunching her nose before she continued to mimic him. "What? Missy you say? Missy who!" 

The Doctor, in the midst of Missy's empowering but highly exaggerated performance, had eventually retrieved the newly christened chaos nebula from her fist once more, and as she drew to a close, he had managed to gently encase Missy in his arms. She hadn't realised she'd begun to cry again, but the tears where hot and fresh on her skin. 

Instinctively she buried her face into his shoulder with a small whimper. The sound vibrated through him as he pulled her closer. He felt awful. He wanted to tell her she was his best friend, that he loved her more than anything, but the words where lodged in his throat, forever lodged, suffocating him. 

He had a face full of Missy hair but he wasn't smiling. His fingers wound themselves through it slowly. The sound of double heart beats combined seemed overwhelmingly intimate in that moment. It was terrifying. She was terrifying.

What she does, whether it be attempting to make a friendship bracelet or conquering the earth, it's all driven by one tiny impulse. A notion, sparking up an atom, scattering to the next, and the next, and the next.

He was holding dynamite and he happened to really like that dynamite, which Is generally not how it works, but most of the time the dynamite has the power to make him into nothing but a dead man anyway. The only difference was he wanted it. 

Maybe she was a nebula. Mesmerising, beautiful, yet casually possessing the ability to drag everything around it into its core, form a star and eventually implode, taking everything it took with it. Genius, really.

"I just wanted to be a good friend." She murmured quietly into his neck, making him squirm a little.

"I know Missy." His voice was soft. "So did I." 

Missy sniffled again. 

"Well," She said, lifting her face from his neck and beginning to untangle herself from him, "that's good enough, I suppose."

The Doctor stared at her, completely lost. He found himself sans Mistress once more. "What?" He blinked up at her. "Am I on a Roller Coster?"

"It's okay, you love me, it's fine." She looked bored again. He felt somewhat relieved.

Then he heard her words for himself, his face in response turning an impossible shade of red and he was on his feet beside her in no more than a millisecond.

"I- you- what!" He was visibly frustrated. It was such a typical move for her, she knew exactly how he felt. The fact she'd taken herself out of his arms only confirmed it.

Missy sighed deeply, puffing her cheeks out. "Doctor. It's fine! I'm fine now, you love me." She waved her hand as if this was a mere fact. 

"What are you talking about, this, this is-" He stammered, torn between admitting defeat and denying he was even here. "You know what? I'm late for Jelly Babies." At this point he attempted to navigate himself towards the doorway quite poorly, instead walking himself directly into Missy before trying to move her aside by her shoulders as if she where a door herself.

This resulted in a dumb struck Doctor stood failing his hands around an incredibly amused Mistress. God, how did she do that with her eyes?

"Dear I could practically hear your whining from your sad little classroom. It's pathetically sweet."

The Doctor frowned. "Oh I'm sorry, next time I'll try not to miss you so much." He replied sarcastically, his fingers resting on her forearms. The idea of leaving is always much easier.

"Don't be like that." Of course, she knew this. It's better to simply remove the option. "Here, take a chaos nebula." 

She really did kiss like one. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make a friendship bracelet, basically.


End file.
